


lesson learnt

by vandoorne



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Cock Slapping, Come as Lube, Creampie, Double Anal Penetration, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Gang Rape, M/M, Nipple Torture, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Touching, Piss Enema, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spitroasting, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19480078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandoorne/pseuds/vandoorne
Summary: félix marchand, crash happy superstar rookie racing for monster energy racing team. his team decides that he needs to learn an important lesson before the next race: stop crashing the bloody car.





	lesson learnt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aleksrothis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleksrothis/gifts).



Thing is, Félix had heard rumours about his team. They are strict about discipline, or so the rumour had went. _Discipline_. What the hell was that supposed to mean, like they were in school all over again, and a misbehaving driver would be bent over with his buttocks bared so that the team principal could spank his ass to remind him about how he needs to conduct himself properly?

(Okay, that thought was actually quite hot, to be honest. As long as said team principal was someone who wasn't too old, had a British accent and was reasonably good looking.)

But never did he ever expect to end up like this, on a bed in the team motorhome, surrounded by the mechanics on his side of the garage. His boys. His race engineer. His physio. All encircling him, while all he can do is to clutch at the bedsheets nervously, palms sweaty. 'Guys?' he asks, voice shaky. He swallows hard, because he can see what he shouldn't be seeing. What he doesn't want to see. Because all the men surrounding him are in various states of undress, in different stages of arousal. His race engineer, Paulie, has a visible erection, tenting his sweatpants already. Giancarlo, his physio, has his cock semi-erect in his jeans, judging from the bulge. He doesn't even want to look at his mechanics. There are too many of them. God, what the hell are they doing?

'You never learn, do you?' Paulie pushes Félix down on to the bed. His legs bracket Félix's waist, and he smirks, looking down at him. At how his shirt is riding up, revealing pale, milky skin. 'Félix, Félix, _Félix_. How many times do we have to tell you to _look after the fucking car_?'

'Paulie,' Félix says. He tries for a laugh, but it sounds nothing like it. 'Come on. Tabitha is my wife. I'll do anything to protect her.'

'How quaint.' It's Chester, one of his mechanics. Wirey redhead, with thick glasses. 'If the car was your wife, you'd already be a widower.'

'That's not-'

'Oh shut up.' This time, it's Ashton. Another mechanic. Tall, hulking, broad, with a mop of golden hair. 'You know, Félix, you're really more tolerable when you shut your mouth and drive properly.'

'What?'

'What the fuck did you do today, huh.' Sawyer, one of the pit crew. Short, stout, rimless glasses. 'Got the angle wrong and swung in today, almost knocking Pavinder over.'

'I'm sorry,' Félix says, tongue thick in his mouth. 'I didn't mean. I. Is he alright?'

Sawyer snorts. 'We sent him to the hospital, just in case. They said it was some scratches, nothing more. Bet you'd like it if we scratched you, huh?'

'Then you crashed out in the final lap,' Michael pipes up. Mechanic, muscular, tanned. Eyes that crinkle when he laughs. 'Trying to clear a blue flagged car. What a fucking joke.'

Félix's cheeks colour and he bites his lip hard. 'Rookie mistake,' he says, through gritted teeth. 'I'm sorry about the car. I pushed really hard today. Started from the pit lane and ended up running in third.'

'No point if you don't come home with the points,' Giancarlo says.

The rest of the men laugh, and Félix fights back the urge to shrink into himself.

'As I was saying,' Paulie continues, clearing his throat. 'Félix over here needs to be taught a lesson. Am I right, gentlemen?'

There's laughter all round again, followed by murmurs of agreement.

'I'm sorry,' Félix says, holding his hands up. 'I've learnt my lesson, okay? I'll do my best not to crash. Come on, you try driving at close to 300 kilometres an hour round and round on that track and then you tell me _mmmf_ —'

More laughter. Félix's cheeks burn now in sheer humiliation, now that Paulie has just slapped him across his face with his hard cock. Félix tries to wiggle his way out from underneath Paulie, but someone else holds him in place. Someone's hands reach for his chest, seeking out his nipples from over his shirt. Someone teases his right nipple, rubbing the soft pad of a thumb against it. Another person yanks hard at his left nipple, twisting, pinching, and Félix howls in pain.

'What are you doing?!' Félix struggles to turn his face away, to no avail. Instead, what he gets is Paulie forcing his cock into his open mouth, pushing in even as Félix struggles and chokes around it. Paulie's cock tastes disgusting, it stinks and it smells of piss and sweat and Félix gags, tears welling up. But Paulie pays no heed, briefly pulling out, allowing Félix a sharp gasp of air before fucking his mouth again.

'I'm teaching you a lesson,' Paulie says, voice harsh. Félix had no idea that his voice would be capable of something like this. On the team radio he usually sounds pleasant. Even his clipped tones when he gets annoyed with Félix's decision to argue against the team has nothing on this. 'In Formula 1, we work as a _team_. We want you to win races but at the same time we want the car back home in one goddamn piece. Last race it was a podium, this race it's a crash. Rinse and repeat. Do you have any idea just how much your stupid crash today cost?'

Félix doesn't answer. How could he, when he's choking on Paulie's cock?

'Forget it,' Giancarlo snorts. 'He wouldn't understand. Boy knows nothing about money. But it's okay. Daddy's company is our title sponsor. All over the rear wing.'

Laughter all round again. 'Daddy's always there to clean up the mess little Félix makes,' Chester says in a sing-song voice. 'Speaking of little Félix, look at the actual little Félix over here.'

Félix's eyes widen, and he struggles against the hands holding him down. No, oh god, oh fuck, no. He had tried so hard to fight it, had thought of every disgusting team principal and FIA steward ever to fight it but oh, fuck. His cock is hard, and his erection is painfully constricted by his skin tight jeans. It's mortifying. Humiliating that having the pit crew, his mechanics, his race engineer and even his goddamn physio touch him without his consent makes his cock hard, makes his cock leak pre-come all over, staining his jeans. Fucking embarrassing.

'Let me.' It sounds like Ashton, and then Félix's jeans are unceremoniously yanked down. His cock gets caught in his briefs, and the rest of the men laugh when Ashton points out just how wet Félix has already gotten. 'We're not teaching him a lesson, lads. He's enjoying this shit.'

'Then you gotta fuck him senseless.'

 _What_?

That is how Félix ends up with three fingers buried in his ass, while yet another mechanic pumps his load down his throat. Someone comes all over his chest, rubbing the tip of his cock all over his nipples, and all throughout they pointedly ignore Félix's cock. It goes untouched while they mock its size, mock just how much it's dribbling all over, creating a filthy mess.

They take turns to fuck Félix. His mouth. His hands. Someone uses his armpit too, laughing at his lack of hair there. Félix has his face buried in someone's pubic hair while he sucks their cock when someone finally pushes their cock into his asshole, with someone's come as lubrication. When they had opened his asshole up to pump load after load of come in, Félix had shouted in protest, only to be gagged by yet another cock. The wet squelch coming from fingers fucking his asshole, already lubed up with loads from the men had been utterly embarrassing echoing throughout the room.

There's so many men. How many are there exactly in the team? Félix doesn't even have the capacity to think about it. His cock is hard, aching, leaving strings of pre-come all over the bedsheets, but each time he tries to touch it someone smacks his ass, leaving red marks all over. They pump his ass full of come, most of them don't last pretty long and it's frustrating because as much as Félix doesn't want this, his body craves it. His body _wants_ to be fucked good, craves a good, long fuck to make him come so hard he forgets his name. It's fucking ridiculous, isn't it? He had signed on to Monster Energy Racing to be a Formula 1 driver. Not to be used over and over again by his side of the garage, like he's nothing but their little fucktoy, a warm hole for them to come in.

'Ashton, you asshole.' It's Sawyer, and he's grunting as he thrusts into Félix. 'You've made him so loose. What the fuck.'

Someone laughs, just as Giancarlo pulls out of Félix's mouth, coming all over his face. The come gets into Félix's golden hair, and Giancarlo chuckles, rubbing it in. Félix looks up at him, lips parted. He should say something. Should protest. Say no. But oh, what's the point? Not like anyone's listening to him anyway. Maybe that's how it always is. When he's in the car, reporting back. They listen, but not really. They're all probably laughing at him when he complains that a Ferrari has pushed him off track. Or when he bangs wheels with a Mercedes trying to get past when it isn't really his fault.

'Come on,' someone says. Félix steels himself for yet another load being pumped into him, but instead, it's someone stuffing a finger into his asshole, alongside Sawyer's cock. What the fuck. _What the fuck_. No. No no no no no. Not this. No.

'Please,' Félix begs, voice hoarse. There's another finger now. And another. rhythmically fucking his stretched out hole, struggling to accommodate the intrusion. 'Please no. Please. I'll break. I'll break, I can't take it please, I'm sorry, please, _please_ —'

Félix ends up with two cocks buried deep in his ass. Michael's in front of him, with Sawyer behind, and Martin's grip on Félix is firm, bouncing him up and down their cocks, as if Félix is nothing but a ragdoll. Not a Formula 1 driver. Just a little fucktoy for them to play with, nothing more. And oh, Félix shouldn't be enjoying this, his cock bobbing uselessly against his stomach, without any stimulation. But like this, being stuffed so full, having someone stand above him to shoot come all over his body?

It doesn't take long before Félix finally comes, body jerking and trembling and shaking as he spills white all over himself. He's crying when he comes, not that anyone notices .Not that anyone cares. Crying in relief because finally, at long last. Release. And also because he came without any stimulation to his cock. Without anyone really caring for his pleasure. He came from being used, again and again and again. And fuck, he clenches down so hard around Michael and Sawyer when he comes, and it isn't long before both men come inside him, filling him up again.

When everyone has finally had their fill, Giancarlo lays Félix on his back, pushing his legs up. Makes Félix spread his asscheeks, showing just how much they've filled him with. His asshole is gaping, trying hard to clench around something that doesn't exist. There's the telltale sound of camera shutters going off, fuck there had already been camera shutters going off all throughout, but it's only now that Félix is acutely aware of the fact that he will never live this down. If anything, this is only the beginning of a cycle that will repeat itself over and over again.

'Hey, where's his phone?' Ashton asks. There's shuffling, and then the click of a camera. Félix's eyes are squeezed shut. He doesn't want to look. He has no energy left to look, no energy to protest. He just wants this to be over, wants everyone to go. 'Looks like he could use a plug,' he says.

 _What_?

Immediately Félix tries to move, tries to get up, but Giancarlo and Paulie hold him in place as he tries to struggle against their grip. It's futile, and Félix shouts, voice broken when Ashton pushes his own phone into his ruined hole.

'Say cheese,' Ashton says, and fresh tears prick at Félix's eyes as the camera shutter goes off.

Oh, god. What sort of depraved fuck is Félix, feeling his cock stir in arousal from being fucked by his phone, with a photo taken of the inside of his asshole?

'Leave it in him,' Sawyer says. 'This look suits him. He needs to be plugged up to remember the valuable lesson we taught him today,' he sneers. 'Stop fucking up the car, asshole.'

'Nah.' It's Chester again, and fuck, is he still hard?

Félix winces as the phone is removed and replaced by Chester's cock. He squeezes his eyes shut when he feels the slap of cool metal against the underside of his cock. Someone is using his phone to smack his cock, causing pre-come to dribble out from the tip. Shame washes over Félix, white hot. More clicks of a camera again. Chester's fucking Félix at a punishing pace, balls slapping against Félix's ass, rough material of his jeans scratching against Félix's sensitive skin.

'You like his gaping asshole?' Sawyer asks, voice incredulous.

Chester grunts as he comes, adding more to the load inside Félix. He stays there, cock still buried in Félix's ass, even though he's no longer hard.

'What are you doing?' Paulie asks, curious.

'Got to go,' Chester says. His grip on the underside of Félix's thighs are hard, fingernails digging into his skin.

Oh no. Hell no. Félix is going to escape this, no matter what. He struggles, focuses all his energy into getting away, but getting away is difficult when at least half a dozen men lunge at you to keep you pinned down.

'Ahh,' Chester moans. Then he lets go, pissing inside Félix. Using Félix as if he's nothing more than a public toilet, for come, for piss.

Félix is crying now, and he's crying even harder when someone tugs at his cock, jerking him until he comes again, all over himself. Coming while someone is pissing inside his ass. That's the lowest ever. God, what the fuck has he become.

There are photos being taken, again. Félix's body is pushed up, ass in the air to prevent the contents inside him from spilling out, to no avail. Félix stares at the ceiling, jaw slack, eyes glassy.

'Remember, Félix,' Chester says, wiping his cock in Félix's hair. 'Look after your goddamn car. Who gives a fuck how fast you are when all you do is crash.'

Laughter all round again.

'It's a team effort. Let's do this again, keep the morale up, yeah? Then you'll always remember at each race. Don't fucking crash.'

One by one, the mechanics and the pit crew remind him again to behave himself as they get up to leave. Paulie's reminder is a quiet threat, and Giancarlo merely squeezes Félix's cock, reminding him that physio sessions are necessary to keep his body in tip top condition. For on track, and off.

Félix just nods, numb. He's learnt his lesson, alright, now that they've left him here in the team motorhome, drool leaking from his lips all smeared with come, thighs splayed, piss and copious loads of come trickling out from his abused hole.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to A for the beta!


End file.
